


Don't Even Pretend That You Know What You're Doing

by TheLadyNoel



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Han is only 5 years older than the twins in this fic, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drug Use, anakin is not the best father, skysolo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyNoel/pseuds/TheLadyNoel
Summary: Luke's past catches up to him in the form of a one-night stand with a past addiction. It leaves him scared and confused and full of bad memories. After awhile, though, Luke realizes that maybe everything does happen for a reason.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I could be working on the other fic I haven't updated for almost a year, and yet
> 
> (Also, tags will be added as needed)

Leia picked up on the third ring, and Luke sent up a quick prayer of thanks to whoever the hell had cared enough to make his sister answer her phone at 5:48 in the morning. “What?” her voice was sluggish and irritated and suddenly Luke regretted ever calling Leia. He considered hanging up or making up some lie about having misdialed his phone, but he knew Leia would see through it. She always saw through him. It was why they only spoke to each other once a week, instead of every day like they had freshman year. “What is it, Luke?”

“I…,” he began, his voice somehow cracking in the middle of a monosyllabic word. He heard what sounded like a bed creaking in the background. Leia was awake now, able to sense his distress through whatever powers of telepathy were granted by their bond of twinship. Luke could feel her waiting on him to finish. “Leia, I...I need to talk to you. Not on the phone.”

“Of course, Luke. Try and calm down, you sound terrified. Please just relax. It's Saturday, I don't have any homework due on Monday, so let's meet up at the usual spot, okay?” Leia only ever used that kind of soft, slow voice when she was trying to calm somebody down. Luke appreciates the effort.

Luke nodded and swallowed around a lump in his throat. “‘Kay.”

\---------------------------------------------

Leia was already waiting when Luke pulled up in front of the tiny bookstore. She peeked out from behind a shelf at the sound of the bell on the door jingling. Luke breathed in the smell of musty words and far-off worlds and the apple pie candles that the owner of the shop thought were a good idea to burn around stacks of decades-old novels. The quiet, cozy smell helped to ground him, to prepare him for what he was about to do.

“G’morning, Leia. How’ve you been?” He asked politely, shoving his sweaty hands into his hoodie pocket and trying to dry them off on the fabric.

“I've been busy. I had to read an entire book on Marxism by the end of the week, and I had only just finished and went to bed when you called. Which is fine,” she added quickly, noticing the guilt which flashed across his face. “So...how are you?”

Small talk had never been their strength. As children, they had been content to sit next to each other for hours on end, saying nothing, just reading or drawing or doing a puzzle and enjoying each other's company. If they didn't have anything to talk about, then they wouldn't talk. It drove their mother and uncle crazy. Their father was the only one who understood; sometimes they would catch him staring at them, mouth slightly open as if he had wanted to ask them something.

He never asked them anything.

“I've been good, I guess.” It came out sounding like a question, so he tried again. “I got a B on a chemistry assignment, so that's an achievement for the books. Maybe Dad’ll even be _proud_ of me.”

Leia ignored the comment. “So what's up? And don't give me any ‘oh, I'm fine’ bullshit. Tell me what's going on so I can help. You wouldn't have called if you didn't want my opinion or my money, and you could've just texted me if you needed money.”

Luke looked at the faded carpet and his floral patterned converse which stood upon it. “I don't need money,” he muttered. He looked up at his sister’s unreadable face and his stomach fell again. Without warning, she turned on her heel and walked off. Luke immediately followed.

He found her at the small wooden table which sat, mostly unused, in the corner. Memories had been carved into the wood with pens, keys, and pocket knives. Names, numbers, promises of a good time. Luke traced these ghosts with his fingertips, his bright blue nails standing out against the dark wood.

They sat in silence, but it wasn't comfortable.

“He found you.”

Luke's head snapped up and he stared at Leia with wide eyes. He tried to grasp ahold of what she'd just said, what she meant by it. He gaped at her until she rolled her eyes and shook her head, her hair falling into her face a bit. She pushed it back angrily, wishing she had remembered a hair tie.

“I told him to leave you the fuck alone. What did he do, Luke? What did he do to you? Did he give you anything?” She grabbed his chin and looked into his eyes, checking for blood vessels or blown pupils.

“No, God-- _fuck_ , Leia, I'm fine, okay? I didn't take anything! I'm still clean. You can calm down. _God_.” Luke leaned back in his plastic folding chair, ignoring how it screamed at the movement. Jaw clenched, he stared at his sister for what seemed like several minutes. She stared back, unwavering. When they were children, Leia always won staring contests. Most of the time, she would blow into his eyes and then claim she hadn't cheated because eye-blowing wasn't in the rules.

This time, though, Luke lost because he suddenly burst into tears.

He wrapped his arms around his middle and dropped his head into the table, salty tears dropping onto the scarred wood. Leia sighed and reached across the table to comb her fingers through his hair. It was a soothing gesture, but Luke couldn't be consoled. He hadn't known it that morning when he called his sister, but he had wanted to be able to destress himself in good company. He wasn't ashamed of his loud sobbing or incoherent babbling and keening. He was only ashamed of the reason behind it all.

“Leia,” he began, taking big shuddering breaths to try and stop his weeping. His heart and head were pounding. “Leia, I..Leia I did something, something _bad_ , Leia…”

His sister continued petting his hair until he was able to raise his head and look at her. His heart seized when he saw not disappointment on her face, but sadness. It was as if she had expected Luke to fuck himself up, and so there wasn't any room left for her to feel bad at him. She only felt bad for him, and that was worse.

“Leia…”

“What happened, Luke?” Her voice was soft again. Luke didn't think he deserved to be consoled.

He waited several moments before speaking, thinking of every possible way out of it. None of the possibilities seemed good enough, so he steadied his breathing and just jumped:

“Leia,” his voice so quiet that his sister had to strain to hear. “Leia…

...I had sex with Han Solo.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Leia talk...rather, Leia criticizes and Luke confesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this piece of shit writing has taken two weeks. I'm graduating in a couple weeks so things are pretty hectic rn. Also, my writing is the epitome of an over usage of italics, ellipses, and visual speaking (the words written exactly like they are said. Just imagine it in your head and it might sound okay.)

It was so quiet in the store that Luke swore he could hear the books breathing. Leia hadn't responded to his confession, just stared at him with raised eyebrows, her mouth open just a bit. Luke shifted in the chair. It creaked again, and Leia jumped a bit at the noise. Shaking her head, Leia put her face in her hands and groaned.

“Luke. Before I even begin telling you how _stupid_ you are,” Luke blanched, but Leia powered on, “I want you to tell me one thing." She reached across the table and grabbed her brother's hand. They met eyes, and Luke was taken slightly aback at the amount of fear he saw in his twin. “Was it consensual?”

Luke blinked.

“Did you want to have sex with him, Luke? Because if you didn't--”

“I did.”

Both of them were surprised by the firmness of Luke's response. Luke had tried his best not to dwell on yesterday's events, but he was starting to feel like Leia was going to make him relive it all, just so he would have a defense for the coming storm.

“Okay,” she spoke slowly, with deliberation, carefully picking out each word. “I'm glad that son of a bitch didn't force himself on you, but _dammit_ , Luke, why are you so fucking _stupid_? You've been doing so good the past couple years, you got clean, got Han out of your life. You got into college on scholarship, for God’s sake, so _why_ would you let him back to ruin your life? Answer me, Luke. Tell me why you _refuse_ to move on.”

Leia’s eyes were burning a hole into the top of his head, but Luke refused to look up. He was lost in his head somewhere, far away from the words being hurled at him by the only person he could trust with his secrets.

“Luke, what's wrong with you? I don't want to see you get hurt again like in high school, please don't let him back in. Luke, are you even listening?” Luke managed a nod, if only to appease his sister, who was growing louder and more desperate by the second. If she started crying, Luke thought he might actually kill himself. “Talk to me, Luke. Say _something_.”

He said the first thing that came to mind. Just let it roll off his tongue like syrup without thinking of the consequences.

“Han says hi.”

Leia promptly exploded. “The _fuck_ do you mean, ‘Han says hi’? Why is Han suddenly thinking about anybody else? Since when does he actually _care_ about anything other than the next time he can shoot some _shit_ into his veins, or the next person he can sell to, or the next little _twink_ he can fuck up and--Luke, no, oh my God, I didn't mean it like that, _Luke_!”

Luke was already leaving. He was out the door before Leia could stand up to chase after him. He was in his car before she could apologize, and he was driving away before she could tell him she loved him.

\--------------------------------------

When he got back into his dorm room, his roommate was still gone and he had seven new messages and four missed calls from Leia. He typed in his passcode (his birth year, how original) and scanned the texts, barely caring what they said.

_Luke please come back_

_I need to apologize, Luke, please answer the phone_

_LUKE_

_Luke, please answer. I wasn't thinking about what I was saying, and I didn't mean it as an insult to you. I just really fucking hate Han Solo_

_I just called again, please tell me when you get back to your dorm. I want to know your safe._

_*you’re_

_Okay nevermind whatever just call me whenever the fuck your feel like talking to someone about your problems_

Luke snorted when he read the last one. He dropped his phone onto the floor and stood up, and gathered clothes for a much-needed shower. A shower would help wash away the feeling of Han’s fingertips on his hips, his thighs, his chest and neck.

As he undressed, Luke realized that water couldn't wash away the red-purple marks that stood coyly upon his shoulders and hipbones. He looked at them in the mirror, watched himself brush his fingers over them and then raise a trembling hand to his mouth.

He remembered every moment he spent with Han, and how Han had spent every second of their time together trying to redeem himself, mostly using his mouth to conjure up genuine apologies and sincere promises and meaningful nips at sensitive skin.

Luke thought he had more than succeeded. Perhaps, instead of running out on her, Luke could have explained this to Leia. So after a short battle with himself, Luke went back to his room and snatched his phone from the carpet. He typed in a quick text to Leia and sent it, then stomped back to the bathroom so he could enjoy his shower.

_I'll be back in about an hour and I want you to actually listen to me_

\--------------------------------------

As expected, Leia was still sitting at the same table in the corner when Luke returned to the bookstore. He felt better after scrubbing himself and washing his hair with his roommate’s coconut shampoo.

“Did you even leave?” Leia shook her head and Luke felt a pang of guilt.

“Luke, I'm sor--”

“It's fine.” Leia pursed her lips. “I just...I know you don't like him, and I know you don't wanna talk about him, but...we need to. He's... _different_ , Leia.”

“Different?” She scoffed.

“Yes, different. It's been almost two years since either of us have seen him. Believe it or not…” Luke shook his head, still barely believing what he was about to say. “Believe it or not, but Han is clean now.”

Leia's eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline.

“A-are you…? _Clean_? What? _Han Solo_ isn't an addict anymore?”

Luke shook his head, himself stunned into silence.

“How did he manage that?”

Luke grinned. “What, are you impressed?”

“I mean...yes, actually. I always thought he'd get thrown in prison or OD in a bathtub somewhere. We all thought that, Luke, even you.”

They both sat in silence for a few moments, somber.

“Lando was the one who OD’ed.”

Leia sucked in a breath. “Did he…?” Luke nodded. “Oh, that must've wrecked Han. They were best friends.”

“That's why he quit. He used the money he'd earned from dealing to put himself through rehab and buy a dog and a slightly less shitty apartment. He has a job at that big mechanic’s shop on the other end of town, he says he's going to be promoted to manager when the current guy leaves in a few months. He's...really doing good for himself, Leia. He’s happy, and... _not_ doing drugs anymore.”

Leia studied her brother. She saw how much he was struggling with the past and the success of someone who everyone had damned to a lonely existence and an early grave. There was a battle going on in Luke’s head, between his emotions and his memories, between pride and common sense. Leia knew without asking that Luke hadn’t placed any bets on a winner yet, but if he had, then he would have put all of money on a certain scoundrel with a grin that could corrupt even the holiest of souls.

Luke had always lost all of his battles. It looked to Leia like he was about to lose this one, too.

Or maybe he already had.

“Luke, how do you feel about Han now?” Leia asked carefully.

Luke deliberated. He thought about high school and sleepless nights and paranoia and highs that never lasted long enough. He thought about resolution and withdrawals and heartbreak. He didn’t realize he was crying again until he tried to answer his sister and found he could barely speak.

“I never wanted him to leave,” Luke whispered, hating how those words felt on his tongue. And then there were more words, ones he thought he’d never speak to anyone. He was angry and terrified all at once and his eyes stung with tears and he _couldn’t stop talking_. “I never wanted him to leave, and I didn’t want to leave him, but you all made me, and I hated you all for so long, Leia, I hated my own _family_ because of him! I knew he was bad but he just needed help and he took me seriously, and--”

“Luke--”

“No, Leia! God _damn_ it, I told you to let me speak! Do you want to know what’s happening or not?”

Leia sat back and pursed her lips, nodding. But not before noticing how Luke was speaking (and shrieking and blubbering) in the present tense.

“Thank you!” Luke's fingers were dragged roughly through his shaggy hair. Leia noticed he needed a trim, but she dismissed the fleeting thought. “I knew Han needed help, just needed someone to tell him...that everything was okay, I suppose. A-and, and he just...helped me s-s-so much, he made me feel like I was important and nob-b-b-body had ever done that befo-ore. He didn’t s-see me as the son of Anakin Skywa-a-alker-r and Senator Amidala, I was just _Lu-u-u-uke_ , I just wanted to be loved for _me_!” By this time Luke sobbing had turned into hyperventilations and Leia was straining to understand him, but she was crying too and knew that she couldn’t honestly argue with him, even if she was able to speak coherently. “Leia, I just wanted somebody to love me.”

Leia slid out of her chair onto the old carpet and shuffled on her knees over to Luke. She threw her arms around her brother and, still weeping, choked out a dozen different apologies, their sincerity muffled by Luke’s jacket.

Leia had only one question left, and she asked it after they had both regained their composure.

“What happened last night, Luke? Why did he find you? _How_ did he find you? And why did...wh…” She trailed off, her brain failing to complete any thoughts on the subject of Han Solo. She had tried years ago to box away any part of him that lingered in her mind, and she had locked those boxes in a storage container of her own genius design. As it turned out, Luke brought back the key that she had tossed over her shoulder so long ago.

So much for moving on with life.

“Do you really want to know?” Luke's voice was a whisper, thick and strained with tears.

Leia nodded.

Luke took a deep breath, and

_began to tell the story_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? Suggestions? Criticisms? Leave 'em all in the comments ;) 
> 
> Also, find me on tumblr @epicwillalwaysbemyfavouriteword


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to the beginning of Luke's downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really confusing and I'm so sorry. I was going to start it with the story of what happened the night before, but then I just started explaining the past and...gotta finish with the past before I can start with the present. So there might be another few chapters of what happened during Luke's teen years, and then it'll go to what happened the night before, as I'm sure you all expected. I'm so sorry. Also, this gets really kinda dark in this chapter, so I added some tags. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for self-harm, eating disorder, referenced drug use, referenced suicidal thoughts

“Bye, Luke. I'll be back on Thursday. Don't forget to eat, okay? There's a shit-ton of ramen under my bed. And take your meds. I'll text you. And, uhhh...I guess that's it? Luke? _Luke_.”

Luke finally looked up from the game he was playing on his phone. His face was blank.

“I just fucking _died_ , Biggs. Thanks.”

Biggs sighed at his roommate. Things were getting bad again for his best friend, and there was nothing he could do. Leia wasn't going to stop writing books or attending important political meetings with their mother, and Luke wasn't going to return his parents’ calls anytime soon. Luke didn't want to see that he was isolating himself from his parents, and not the other way round.

“How long have you been staring at that screen? Did you even eat lunch?”

“I don't need to eat,” Luke mumbled, already focused back on his game. “I'm trying to beat Wedge. He's up to level 578, and it pisses me off.”

Biggs stared at Luke. His heart hurt just looking at him: he hadn't showered or combed his hair for two days--going on three--nor had he changed out of his ratty boxers and that God-awful yellow hoodie. Biggs could only recall seeing him in the dining hall three times in the past week. Try as he might, Luke didn't seem to want to get better. At least he was wearing boxers, which meant Biggs could see that he wasn't cutting again. Angry red scars crisscrossed Luke's thighs, reminders of years of self-hatred and a violent yearning for control.

Biggs had been there to see all of it. It started around the time Padmé Amidala had been asked to give a speech at some women's rights convention, and had turned the world upside down with her descriptions of the treatment of girls her husband, United States Ambassador and trusted advisor to the president, had grown up with on the streets. Anakin himself had been treated much the same way. Padmé had helped remind feminists that it wasn't all about being allowed to vote and wear what they want; it was about showing to the world that they as women were willing to make a change in the lives of young girls everywhere, regardless of class, region, race, or religion.

And God, did it work. Being a very prominent politician who was married to someone close to the president, Padmé had been able to start a national campaign to help feed, shelter, and educate children living in poverty in the US, and, soon after its initial launch, the entire world pitched in and the rganization became international. She was a success. Children were getting homes and education, and the poverty level was actually dropping, because people were finding jobs and helping out their fellow human. Anakin and his best friend and fellow Ambassador, Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, traveled the world, miraculously helping the US form alliances with world powers and third-world countries. Somehow, everything seemed to be going ridiculously well, for everyone.

Everyone except two small children just hitting puberty, who were beginning to question who they were and why their parents were important in the first place. Luke and Leia Skywalker were passed around from family members to family friends to neighbors whenever their famous parents weren't home with them, which was often. Everyone told them how brave and inspiring their parents were, how they were making a positive impact in the lives of so many people. They were bringing about an era of peace, people would tell the children, and they should be proud of their mommy and daddy.

Leia was in awe of her mother. At just twelve years old, she began to turn away from dresses and frilly things, and she wore t shirts and jeans from Walmart and yard sales to save her parents money that they could be spending on helping people. Leia read books about feminism as she herself was becoming a woman. She began making jewelry and artwork that she sold to anyone who knew whose daughter she was, and all the proceeds went to developing counties via her mother and father’s organization. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to be the friend of Leia Organa Skywalker, daughter of the kindest revolutionaries of the age.

Luke Skywalker, however...was alone. When his parents became even more famous than they already were, he was left with strangers and distant relatives even more often than he already had been. He had questions, curiosities that he had to deal with himself. He wasn't strong or fast enough for sports, though Leia played three, and his parents had played a total of seven between them during their school years. He wasn't loud or bossy enough to be in any clubs, though Leia was in six and was the president of all of them, and his parents had participated in eight organizations in their day, and had just created a rather successful one. He had no musical or artistic talent, which meant no garage band like Dad and Uncle Ben had in high school, no marching band like Leia and Mom, and no published artwork, popular children's book illustrations, and no photography for Time magazine like Dad, Leia, and Mom, respectively.

And while he went through his awkward phase full of acne, split ends, cracking voice, and mood swings, Leia was just coming out of hers with unparalleled grace. Leia was beautiful and accomplished in middle school, and Luke was not. Leia knew exactly where her life was going when she started high school, and Luke was just learning how to masturbate.

Leia was loved and adored and almost as famous as their parents, learning politics at fourteen and going to rallies with her mom, helping raise thousands of dollars for clean drinking water at fifteen, and doing everything she could to defeat the patriarchy at sixteen.

Luke...played video games in his room until three o'clock every morning and drank red bull like it was water. He discovered things about his body that he never learned from Sex Ed class, and he used these things to drive away the dark thoughts that kept creeping into his mind, whispering sweet nothings to his imagination. At fifteen he was diagnosed with depression. His parents took a prescription to a pharmacy and begged the media not to talk about their son’s mental illness, claiming he would get better when he got older, got some experience. Leia, however, wrote a book about her brother and other mentally ill people at their school, and how they “inspired her to continue living and fighting for equal rights, for happiness would surely come hand-in-hand with peace”.

While Leia went on her first date and posted pictures on Instagram that immediately received thousands of views and likes, Luke had a panic attack in his bathroom as he watched blood drip down his legs to soak into a white towel. While Leia cried to her parents during a rare visit about her first heartbreak, Luke drank straight vinegar so that he would vomit up his supper. While Leia published yet another book, this time about body positivity and self-acceptance, Luke collected gently used razors and ripped up pop cans to open his skin with, and gave his packed lunches to other students who couldn't afford one, just so he wouldnt have to eat the junk that was in it. Too many calories and a shrinking area of unflawed skin became Luke's problems, while rape culture and racial and religious equality became Leia's.

Don't ever let anyone say Luke wasn't a philanthropist. He wanted to help people, he just thought that killing himself would be the way to do it.

And all this time, the only person who seemed to notice his struggles was the one person who didn't have the time or energy to try and understand them. Leia told their parents about her brother's self-harm and eating disorder, and they put him in therapy with some retired military leader with degrees in theology and psychology who Anakin had known in his youth, and who was entirely too old and demented to do much help.

So Luke just continued to suffer, though he certainly didn't see it that way. He still got very good grades, all A’s and a couple B’s in English and fine arts. At sixteen he got a job at a small grocery store a half hour from his house which served the sort of people who were probably very nice, but who couldn't afford to go the the nicer stores closer to home.

That is where he met Han Solo for the first time. To this day, Luke can remember exactly how his heart fluttered and he forgot how to speak English when the tall, charismatic man in the leather jacket and ripped jeans strode into the store and bought four bags of off-brand Doritos and a family-sized box of off-brand Frosted Flakes, and completed the purchase with a two liter of orange soda.

“Healthy,” Luke noted quietly when he finally worked out how to talk again. His voice didn't waver and he counted that as a small victory, but he couldn't make eye contact with the man. “That'll be $14.51, please.”

The man handed over a twenty and snickered when Luke flinched away from his hand. Blushing furiously and mentally screaming at himself for being so stupid, Luke counted out his change. He dug his fingernails into his palms, unable to do what he wanted to himself until he got home.

“Just so you know, I'm really fucking high and I got the munchies, so here I am, being as unhealthy as I fucking want.”

Luke forgot how to speak again, but this time with the added disabling of his lungs. He finally sucked in a breath and stuttered out an “o-okay…ha-have a nice day, I-I guess?”

“I will, sweetheart.” The man grinned and walked away, Luke's eyes following him all the way out the door. He didn't realize he was staring, open-mouthed, until the customer next in line cleared her throat. Luke shook his head and apologized, and continued working. He couldn't stop thinking about that man, though--he says ‘man’, but he couldn't be older than twenty-five. As the day went on, Luke got increasingly angry with himself for being so stupid in front of the guy, he probably hated Luke now. Just another person to add to the list. Another part of Luke tried to rationalize that he was only sixteen, probably gay, and had seen a really intimidating and attractive man who he would probably never see again, so why was he worrying?

Luke was only slightly calmer after this internal battle, which had taken until the end of his shift to happen. It was 5:56. He had four minutes until he could leave and go home to listen to Leia brag about how successful her day was while he zoned out and thought about what was waiting for him in the top drawer under the sink in his bathroom.

At 5:57, the bell on the door chimed and Luke turned to greet the customer, and he briefly thought he had a heart attack upon seeing that the customer was actually the man from earlier. He thought he was having a pulmonary embolism when the man walked straight to him.

“Hey, kid, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I wasn't really in a, ah...good state of mind to be talking to people. So I'm sorry.”

God, his voice was so _deep_ and he had a _drawl_ and Luke shifted to his other foot, suddenly uncomfortable and slightly aroused. His face reddened agin before he answered, his words coming out in a jumbled rush.

“It's alright, I don't, I can't, I-I... _fuck_. Let me start over,” Luke put his face in his hands and groaned, forcing himself to try and calm down. This incredibly sexy stranger was no reason to have a panic attack in public. “I'm sorry, I just...I'm not good right now.” He removed his hands but continued staring downwards. “But you have no reason to apologize. It's nothing I haven't heard before, especially working in this part of town. You're safe.”

There was silence for several moments. Luke looked up and was taken aback at the concern written across the man's face. He couldn't look away.

“I wasn't talking about the weed thing, kid, though I _was_ pretty stoned when I came in. I went to hand you the money and you jumped, and I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed at you. I'm sorry for that. Though I _am_ glad you're not going to the cops about me having pot in my possession.”

Luke gaped at him, his mind buzzing. “Nobody's ever noticed that before,” he mumbled. He was blushing again, and he felt like he might vomit. “I didn't mean it, it just sorta happened. It's not your fault.”

“Good. Glad that's settled, cause it was honestly pretty awkward.” Luke started to apologize, but the stranger went on. “Now, what I _really_ came in here for was to tell you I sill have a bag and a half of chips left and I thought you might like to share ‘em with me.”

Luke was having an awful time remembering how words worked today. “What?” Was all he managed. The man grinned again and Luke sucked in a breath. “What do you mean? Like a-a...like a date, or…? _What_?”

The man was smirking now and Luke swore he wasn't going to make it home before he died of either a stroke or the very painful boner squished into his skinny jeans. He wasn't coming out from behind the counter in this condition, not as long as the cause of his arousal was still present.

“Yeah, sure, kid. Though, to be honest, I'm just looking for some company tonight. My roommate’s outta town on business. I'm kinda lonely.”

Luke's heart was beating too fast to be healthy, but he somehow managed to nod and grab his stuff from under the counter. He told the guy to wait while he clocked out and hung his vest up, and he headed out the door with a stranger. He ignored the part of his mind that was screaming that this was probably a bad idea. It's not like anyone at home would be missing him tonight. He did, however, send a quick text to Leia saying he was going to a friend's house. She responded just as quick, telling him to have fun, and Luke's heart fell a little. He almost wanted her to be concerned. He only had like two friends, and he never actually hung out with them except for at school.

“Wait--what's your name?” Luke felt stupid for not having asked sooner.

The man just laughed, but not in a patronizing way--like he genuinely find Luke amusing. “Han Solo, kid. And who might I be taking home tonight?”

“Luke...Luke Skywalker.”

Han's steps slowed. “Skywalker? Like... _Anakin_ Skywalker’s kid?”

Luke scowled. That's the only way people ever knew who he was. He couldn't count the number of adults--his own teachers among them--who simply referred to him as ‘the son of Skywalker’. “Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered.

“Hmm,” was the only response. They'd reached the car, and Luke scrunched his nose at the thing. It honestly could barely be called a car--it was some silver 90s model piece of shit that looked like it needed several repairs and a paint job. Or two. Han opened Luke's door for him, and Luke was at least grateful that it didn't smell as bad as it looked. Rather, it smelled like a shit-ton of lemon air fresheners. Luke reasoned that it was probably to mask the smell of marijuana that might be lingering. But Luke certainly didn't mind the lemony smell--it reminded him of the cleaner he used to sanitize his toilet after throwing up in it after almost every meal. It was a safe smell.

It took Han four tries to start the car. When they were on the road, Han broke the slightly uncomfortable silence by saying “Ya know, I always thought that Anakin Skywalker was kind of a pretentious douchebag.”

Luke choked on literally nothing before bursting out into almost hysterical laughter, his head thrown back and his chest hurting. He hadn't laughed in a while. Han chuckled with him, smiling at the boy in his passenger seat who was gasping for breath. Luke continued to laugh for another solid minute.

It felt good, he realized. Maybe he should do it more often.

Maybe he should keep Han around. He made Luke feel better than his sharpest razor blades ever could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...what did y'all think?
> 
> ps the useless therapist was yoda


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han takes Luke home, and everything goes as planned...sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of eating disorders, panic attacks, language, drug use, underage sexual content between a minor and an adult

Luke became uneasy only when he realized that Han was taking him to a string of run-down apartments on the edge of town commonly referred to as Death Row. “People die there”, he'd always been told by his Uncle Ben. “Yeah, all crackheads and thieves”, his father would add. He said this with a scowl, disgusted, as if he hadn't spent the first several years of his life living in similar conditions.

“Han…” Luke started to ask, then decided against it. He didn't care where he was being taken, as long as this man was going to show him a good time. Han looked over at him, and Luke was caught in his questioning gaze. “It's just...I've never actually done this before?”

Han smiled genuinely as he parked his car outside one of the apartment buildings. “S’alright, kid. I'm a pretty nice guy, I'm not just gonna bend you over the first table I find.” Luke spluttered and went red and Han just chuckled and got out, walking around the car to open Luke's door for him. “Unless, of course, you want me to?”

Han Solo had a wonderful talent, Luke concluded. That specific talent was his insane ability to take Luke's breath away.

Han snorted a laugh and started up a flight of rickety fire stairs. Luke followed him without question, unable to think over the sound of his heart trying to beat out of his chest. They finally stopped at a window which was propped open with a ratty copy of _Fahrenheit 451_. Luke was momentarily impressed; he never took Han for a man of classic literature. Given, it was holding open a window, but still. Luke was thoroughly enamored.

“Lando took the only key, so I had to improvise.”

Luke nodded and followed Han to crawl through the window. He dropped onto a partially threadbare green couch which looked like it had seen several years. Han was already scrambling around the tiny room, picking up old paper cups and plates and clothes scattered about the floor and carrying them into the adjacent room, which Luke assumed was a kitchen.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn't expecting company, Lando lives like a fucking pig and thinks he's a prince for paying the bills.”

“Oh, it's okay, Han,” Luke mumbled. He was inexplicably beginning to feel bad again. Tired, uncomfortable, weak. He hadn't taken his meds that morning...or the previous morning, or a couple months worth of mornings before that. He flushed his pills so he could suffer by himself. Han noticed something was off and asked Luke about it. “It's nothing, just feeling a little sick.”

“Can I do anything for you? Might have some ibuprofen here somewhere…”

Luke's heart seemed to expand to fill his entire chest at Han's attention. He couldn't remember the last time someone cared so much about his well-being just for the sake of his health, not his potential and fame.

Luke made up his mind then and there. Han was going to change his life, and Luke was going to enjoy every moment of it.

“Um...yeah, actually,” Luke said, and somehow his voice stayed steady though he was shaking in his shoes. “Um, so, uh. You said something earlier, that s-sounded good, but...I-I don't kn-kn-know if it was real? A-a-and--” Luke's speech and calm quickly deteriorated as he continued to put his thoughts oh in the open. He was having trouble breathing and he was getting lightheaded. “I…”

Without warning, Luke's knees buckled and he dropped to the ground, the soft brown carpet cushioning his fall. Han swore and crossed the room to kneel beside him.

“Kid, kid, hey, you okay? C’mon Luke, you're fine, just sit up slowly, you're fine.”

Luke sat up, his entire body quivering. His heart and head were pounding and his eyes were bleary, but he could still make out Han's concerned face above him.

“Luke, when did you last eat anything?”

Luke thought, his embarrassment at having fainted on his first date making it hard to remember exactly. He was still kind of woozy, which didn't help. “I...don't know?”

Han sighed. “Alright, let's get you up. C’mon, sit on the couch, that's it. Now stay right there, I'm gonna go get you something to eat.”

Luke protested, but Han ignored him. While he waited for Han to return with food, he curled up into a ball and made himself as small as he could in the already small room. He hated himself so much, he was ruining everything, he didn't want Han to mother him, he wanted to be fucked until he couldn't feel his toes.

Han returned about a minute later and plopped down beside Luke with a cup of cream of chicken soup and, as promised, a bag of off-brand Doritos he'd bought earlier. Luke smiled weakly and took the food. He stirred the soup with the spoon and took a small sip.

His eyes widened. “Holy _shit_ , this is amazing! What did you do to make a cheap can of soup actually taste like _food_?”

Han laughed loudly, and Luke reveled in the sound. “Glad you like it, kid. S’my secret recipe.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “And? What would that be?” He shoveled the soup into his mouth like it was his first meal in days, which it pretty much was.

Han smirked mischievously. “Cayenne pepper and soy sauce. And _love_.”

Luke choked on a spoonful of soup and clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from spewing it everywhere. “God, you're perfect,” he laughed.

“Oh, you think so?” Han responded, his voice suddenly much slower, yet still full of amusement. Luke froze with his spoon midway to his mouth. The soup spilled over the edge of the utensil and back into the bowl, and Luke returned the spoon there as well. The two sat in silence for a moment as Luke thought about every possible course of action and their possible consequences. Finally, he decided on one.

“Yeah, I do.”

Han hummed and Luke's earlier arousal started to find its way back. He shifted his legs on the couch to hide his embarrassing...predicament from Han.

“And what are you gonna do about it?”

Luke took in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes for a second. He was out of time to either prepare himself for or cheat himself out of what could be the best night of his life. He carefully placed his almost empty mug of soup on the coffee table next to the unopened chips, and turned to Han. He felt an unorthodox mixture of turned on and completely calm.

“I don't know, Han, what do _you_ think we should do about it?”

Han licked his lips and stared right back at Luke. “Get up here, kid.”

Luke wasted no time in moving down the couch and climbing on top of Han, pushing the man down to lay flat on the couch. Luke straddled his hips, then paused. He had no clue what to do.

“Can I...kiss you?” He asked timidly, not meeting Han's eyes.

“I dunno, can you?”

Luke almost scoffed at the response. Years of bitchy English teachers didn't need to be coming to mind right now.

So he leaned down and carefully pressed his lips to Han's. Both men were completely still until Han opened his mouth under Luke's and sighed. Then, there were hands on Luke's waist, working their way under his shirt to start fires on his skin, and Han was kissing him deeper, both their heads tilted as Luke tried to keep up with the discordant rhythm Han was setting up. Luke moaned almost pathetically as Han caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit down gently. Luke's hands were fisted in Han's shirt.

“You like that?” Han teased, his voice deep. Luke nodded and went back for another kiss. Han smiled against his lips and sat up on the couch, Luke still in his lap. “D’you wanna take your shirt off, kid?”

Luke didn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere off to the side. He grabbed the hem of Han's shirt and tugged, asking permission to remove it. Han hummed again and pressed a kiss to the corner of Luke's mouth.

Both shirts were off and the feeling of Han's skin against his had Luke panting and pulling Han closer to him.

“Hey, let me look at you,” Han said quietly, and grabbed Luke's waist while he leaned away a little. Luke missed the contact, but gasped when Han pressed his hand against his bare chest and slid it all the way down to his navel. He brought his hand up again, and repeated the action; except this time, he used his fingernails.

Luke was unable to control the moan that fell out of his mouth or the way his hips bucked against Han's. The brief pleasure was amazing, but it left him slightly in shock and scared of how Han would react--

“Fuck,” the other man breathed. Luke looked at him in wonder. Han swallowed thickly and said, “The bedroom’s bigger.”

Luke nodded.

He almost yelped when Han stood and picked him up, carrying him easily to a door, which Luke reached down and opened. Luke took a second to be surprised that this bedroom was actually very clean and neat.

“I live in this room. Lando has the rest of the house,” Han said in explanation.

Han dropped Luke onto the bed and slowly laid down on top of him, supporting his weight with one elbow while his other hand was placed on Luke's side. Luke shuddered and pulled Han down for a sloppy kiss, opening his mouth to let Han's tongue in. It was the weirdest feeling, but it made Luke want to grind his hips into Han's again.

“Let go, baby, let me take care of you,” Han whispered, and Luke spread his legs so Han would fit inside them easier. Han shifted to one side of Luke and continued to kiss him roughly, adding nips here and there, as he slowly slid his fingertips down Luke's side...onto his stomach...over to his pelvis...and down the front of his jeans to cover Luke's obvious erection. Luke let out a gasping moan when Han squeezed. His hands immediately flew to Han's back to hold him close as he thrust his hips up into the touch.

“H-Han, oh my _god_ ,” he breathed.

“You want more, beautiful?”

“Yes, god yes, _please_ ,” he begged. There was so much going on internally and externally. Luke was almost overwhelmed.   
As if he could sense this, Han leaned back a little and asked Luke if he was okay. “I'm fine, Han, just _please_ …”

“Please what? What do you want me to do to you?” Han asked, and Luke whimpered. “You want me to touch you? Want my hands?”

Luke was shaking. He couldn't speak, but somehow Han got the message, because he sat back on the bed just between Luke's legs. Luke watched with wonder and intoxicating excitement as Han slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and trailed his index finger down the hard bulge in the black fabric underneath. Luke bit his lip and dropped his head onto the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists next to him. Then Han slid an index finger into the band of his underwear and pulled down far enough to let his cock free.

“Han, _please_ \--”

But Han had already wrapped his hand around Luke's cock and pulled up slowly, getting a high-pitched moan in response. Luke was already trembling, leaking onto Han's hand. Han slowly moved his hand up and down. Squeezing and twisting and loving every gasp and moan that Luke made. His face was one of perfect pleasure. He was beautiful, and Han told him so again and again.

“H-H-Han...I'm not gonna...Han, _Han_ ,” Luke breathed, just before he came. Cum was on his stomach, his legs, but mostly Han's hands, as he stroked Luke through his orgasm. “Ohh, my god, Han…”

Han removed his hand when Luke stopped moaning, and placed it lightly on Luke's stomach, making even more of a mess. Luke was damn near glowing in his post-orgasm, and Han just watched for a few seconds. Luke was flushed and his chest rose and fell with each deep breath Luke took to try and calm himself down. And then Luke opened his eyes and smiled at him.

“That was amazing, Han. Thank you.”

Han grinned back at him and bent down for a quick kiss. “I'm glad, kid. Do you think you might be up for another round?”

Luke giggled and stretched his arms above his head. “Give me a minute. I wanna be nice and hard for you when you fuck me.”

Han was momentarily surprised at Luke's sudden audacity, but he liked it. Confidence was a good look for him. Meanwhile, he grabbed some tissues from the bedside table and wiped up the semen from his hand and from Luke, with Luke watching his every move.

“Luke, I need to talk to you first,” Han said, and Luke's heart skipped a beat. He was getting thrown out now, he just knew it. “Now, I really wanna fuck you til you can't walk, but I want to hear you say you want it, too. Are you okay with this? Is there anything you're not okay with, before we start?”

Han never failed to surprise Luke. But Luke shook his head and answered, “I want this, Han. I want to _feel_ something, like I'm wanted for something besides being the son of Skywalker and the Senator, sister of _Princess_ Leia.” He snorted at the nickname the world had given his sister. “I want you to show me what this all feels like.”

Han faltered. “Wait...you've never done this before?” Luke blushed and shook his head. “Had you ever done anything with another person before tonight?” Again, Luke said no.

Han gaped at him. “So, you're a virgin? Never been fucked?”

Luke was starting to worry again. Was his sexual experience--or lack thereof--going to make Han not want him anymore?

Han exhaled. “Well, shit...I've never slept with a virgin before. I don't want to hurt you, or make you feel uncomfortable because you don't know what you like and don't like.”

Luke was appalled. “No, no, I'll be fine! I want this, Han, you won't hurt me. It's okay, please don't make me leave!”

Han pressed his palm to Luke's cheek to calm him, even though he wasn't at all calm himself. “You don't have to leave, kid, I just don't know about this. I just figured you'd have all this experience, being who you are. Or are Mommy and Daddy still keeping a leash on you, treating you like a child to keep their image clean?”

Luke smiled. No one ever talked bad about his parents. It was refreshing. “Nah, I just don't have a lot of friends. Everyone loves my sister, I'm just that one awkward kid everyone feels bad for. Plus there's no time to find anyone, with all the homework I have to do to appease my parents.”

Han chuckled and shook his head. “S’why I never went to college, kid. Too much work, not worth the money. But I guess you've kinda been forced into it, huh? Can't imagine what that feels like.”

Luke didn't catch the second half of the sentence. His mind was busy focusing on one part of the sentence. This was going downhill fast. “You... _college_? You think I'm in...college?”

Han fixed his gaze on Luke, and Luke literally watched as the color drained from Han's face and his eyes widened.

“You...you're not…” Han swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, and spoke through clenched teeth. “Luke. How old are you?”

Luke himself was frozen in panic. He never even thought to question Han's knowledge on him, he hadn't cared, was only thinking about himself--

“Luke, dammit, I asked you a _fucking_ question, _answer_ me!”

Luke flinched at Han's tone and volume, and he didn't even try to stop the hot tears which stung his eyes as he panicked. “I...sixteen,” he answered quietly, sobbing out the last syllable.

Han groaned and stood up abruptly enough to make Luke flinch. “Fuck, fuck fucking _fuck_! Shit! Why the _fuck_ didn't you tell me?” He screamed at Luke, who still lay on the bed, hand clapped over his mouth to try and stop himself from sobbing. “You're a _child_! D’you know what they do to guys like me who fuck around with high school kids? You coulda fucking warned a guy before letting him pull you off, Luke! That seems pretty damn important! Why didn't you tell me you were a minor when I tried to take you home?” Han was still yelling, but not at Luke; rather, he was pacing furiously around the bedroom, running his hands through his hair and breathing heavily. Luke blubbered something at him. “What, Luke? What could you _possibly_ say to make this better?”

Luke blanched, but took several deep shaking breaths and repeated himself. His voice wavered but held steady with effort. “No one wants me at home. I wanted to feel loved, just for one night, Han.”

Han stopped pacing but didn't look at the crying boy sitting shirtless in his bed. He had to end whatever this was, and fast. “Well, sorry that didn't work out for you, kid. I don't love you, and I sure as hell don't want you in my house now.”

He heard Luke's sharp intake of breath and the unmistakable sound of someone hyperventilating, and he sighed. He went over to his closet and pulled out a t shirt. He slung it over his head and left the room without looking at Luke to retrieve the boy's shirt from where it had been discarded earlier. It probably cost more than a month’s rent in this place.

When he came back into the bedroom, Luke was gone.

The window was open. Han went to it and saw Luke taking the fire escape stairs three at a time. He watched Luke reach the bottom and take off running in the direction of his home. Without realizing it, Han was watching his future begin to unfold, right in front of his tired eyes.

“Fuck my entire life,” he breathed, and sat heavily on his bed. In his bedside table was a half empty bottle of NyQuil, which would be completely gone only a few short minutes after Luke ran off.

Han Solo slept for nineteen hours straight. He woke up thinking about a beautiful blonde boy with low self-esteem and a need for validation.

“I'm gonna do something stupid,” Han muttered to himself before forcing himself out of bed and grabbing his keys, not bothering to change his clothes.

He needed groceries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to be brutally honest with me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, fren :)


End file.
